


Unqualified

by Vanyiah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars VII: The Force Awakens
Genre: A/U, Age Play, Cat Sitting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kinky, Light BDSM, Mild Humiliation, Slow Burn, Star Wars VII The Force Awakens - Freeform, care taker, low key dd/lg, reader has insecurities, this fic probably is somewhat relateable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanyiah/pseuds/Vanyiah
Summary: It's tiring to be constantly bombarded with expectations and grandeur. Having to live up to your family name when all you want is to desperately leave this world. Even if it meant taking odd jobs and pet sitting. Even if it meant you had to greet a bastard like him with a collar around your neck and the word Sir uttered after each sentence.Safe to say, you were definitely unqualified for the job.





	1. Hygge

They tell me that there's no such thing as a 'hopeless romantic' because even the word hopeless had **hope** in it. Though, I'd like to beg otherwise with an argument of my own. To constantly wonder what love entailed in its entirety, and how one even found such a fleeting treasure—was beyond me. No stars to wish upon, or gods to pray to, could possibly ever give me such a blessing to experience that with another person. All in all. I felt quite broken in this aspect.

 

I'd always seen _love_ glittering around me like little fireflies lighting the world up one at a time. This feeling that society encouraged, people worshiped, and experts say could heal the world and its problems. This _love_ eluded me so many times that my heart was heavy and discouraged.

 

Once, I had this feeling in my grasp—or so I thought. Tangible, flavored with possibilities, and satisfying. Once, I truly believed I had experienced the emotional ambrosia we all sought out for.

 

But I hadn't. Maybe it was obsession, lust, or even crazed infatuation. But I truly believe it wasn't the love that everyone sang about. Because how could love tear you apart so easily and so cruelly. That it left you with nothing but sadness and borderline hatred.

 

Because _**love**_ wasn't the man I had grown up with. Watched as his adoring personality and perspective of life change to that of a cold business man with only one plan in mind. Love wasn't my friend and confidant who had gone away to college to only come back changed and more distant. Love wasn't me coming over to give him a surprise visit only to catch him in bed with a girl who I began to hate. Love wasn't him pushing me out of the house, screaming at me, and telling me that we weren't children anymore. Love could never break my heart so immensely that I lived the next few years of my life in a blur to forget that memory.

 

And so, here I am.

 

25 years old and working two part-time jobs to save up and leave home for good. To fully experience being my own person when others had already done so 5 years before me. Waking up each day to the same routine. Mornings working as a back rooms stocker for the local beauty supply store, and in the evening as a waiter, and barista for a fancy cafe in the area.

 

Watching the years fly past me and having nothing to show for it. Discouraging my parents that I truly could become something great in their eyes. When all I truly wanted was to just leave this city and start over, but you needed money for that sort of thing. The next job on my list I constantly joked with myself was to become a stripper or an escort. However, I have to admit that the over-glamorized package of sex didn't instill feelings deep down in my gut or genitals, for that matter.

 

Late nights online and on Tumblr had led me to certain hobbies of the sexually active and questionable BDSM community. Though I never judged the past time of others behind closed doors—I was indeed piqued by the thought of being stimulated without the need for physical penetration. That someone out there could make you bend at a mere command or put you in 'sub-space' that fit your kinks. It was all quite alluring but confusing at the same time.

 

Though I encouraged the argument for equal rights I was no feminist. Yet, the act of submitting to someone in such a consensual and intimate way was... a foreign concept to me.

There would be no way I'd ever have the luck (or the pleasure) to encounter a seasoned and mature Dom. Regardless if the community said they existed. I doubt I'm in the right frame of mind or reasoning to even distinguish someone as such. With my luck, I'd be like the countless of people who had been taken advantage of and somewhat traumatized by an inexperienced liar.

 

The possibility of that happening to me and the greater chances led me to stick to my so-called 'vanilla' life. I was safe on the other side of the screen as an anonymous person. I could talk about it, write about it, and even research it to my heart's content. But never ever could I act upon my urges without some sort of repercussion. A price I wasn't willing to pay for.

 

“Hey, dude, you got someone over in the corner table. Two hot guys which I'm hoping for your sake they're not gay.” Rita, a long time friend, and coworker bumped me with her hip and looped her arm around mine. A beautiful woman with all the signs of amazing genes and a personality to match. Originally meeting her I was taken aback and felt somewhat inadequate by her appearance.

 

“You know what I say to that. No matter how hot they are or how single... I'm just not the dating type, sis.” I looked at her knowingly and checked to make sure a hair wasn't out of place and that my lipstick was still crisp. Regardless, if they were two hot, single guys—I still had an appearance to upkeep with the cafe.

 

“You never know, babe. Maybe all the sage burning, naked moon dancing, and wailing to the eclipse I did last month will finally give you someone.” Rita took a deep breath in and wiggled her eyebrows at me. The sweetest little witch I'd ever meet in my life but definitely the most peculiar.

 

I laughed with her and squared my shoulders. Mentally preparing my same old routine cafe talk, my notepad in my hands and made my way to the back of the cafe. A part of me wondered if the two gentlemen were business guys. As this was the more central part of the area, we always got a handful of foreign businessmen or rich folk who appreciated the European hygge ambiance we carried.

 

“Good afternoon, gentlem—.” My voice dwindled and died off at the end. I never thought I'd see him here. Ever. “Oh, my. Ben, it's so wonderful to see you again. Doing well, I hope?”

 

My gosh. He was still so handsome as the last time I saw him. Hair a bit longer than before, face still chiseled and eyes still so dark and brooding. He was a masterpiece I could only stare at from behind a corded barrier. Never to touch and hold and call as my own. The one man I wished from the bottom of my heart could dominate me like I fantasized.

 

I couldn't tell if whether or not the feeling was mutual in seeing me in a place like this. The way our candles and antique lighting illuminated his face made everything almost picturesque. Was there a possibility he saw me as attractive or even womanly?

 

“Piglette,”

 

My heart stopped momentarily when he called me by the childhood nickname he had so graciously given me eons ago. My lips turned upwards and I gave him a toothy grin. In a way, I felt that him calling me by it was an unspoken apology for things done in the past. Even before I caught him in a compromising position with that girl... He'd never call me by the nickname. He'd stopped before he had headed off to college. Telling me that it was immature and that he'd prefer to call me by first name from now on. A part of me died inside when he confessed that to me. I felt as if I lost a bit of the Ben I knew and came to yearn for.

 

“Yes, Ben. I still have the baby face and chubby cheeks. I just can't seem to get rid of the darned things.” A sigh escaped my lips and I found a second to slide the menus onto the table. “Enough about me. Can I start you guys off with an espresso or a cafe americano?”

 

There was a time and place for me to reminisce about my old childhood crush. A place where I could cry in peace and wipe away bitter tears that I was desperately trying to hold back. A safe place where no one could see how truly I still felt for him.

 

“No, need.”

 

I almost forgot about the man who sat in front of Ben and when I was able to finally take him in—My soul left my body and I almost choked from the sheer sex appeal he oozed.

 

I'd never seen hair so pristine and flaming red. We don't normally get redheads around this area. The man screamed rich and powerful. The arrogance was almost palatable. I swallowed slowly and willed the goosebumps forming over my skin to go away. By the looks of it, his entire ensemble from the suit down to the watch and shoes probably cost more than my year's wages.

 

Again, I felt inadequate and inferior.

 

Ben was always the social and status climber. Reaching above and beyond where my mind and eyes could never take me. Something I was envious of my childhood friend. Where my parents expected me to succeed—Ben was already there and soaring. It didn't surprise me that his social circle would include people of high power and wealth.

 

“I think we'll just enjoy the high tea special you have to offer.” His voice was thick and delicious. Like Irish crème just pouring all over your body and piercing through every crevice and cranny you had. Augh. I wanted more. I'm positive the blush on my cheeks gave my thoughts away because the small smile he gave me had me looking away and scribbling in my notepad.

 

“Alright, Sir. I'll definitely get that in.” I had to control my voice from going up a pitch because of the nerves. Unfortunately the look he gave me after I had called him 'Sir' went unnoticed and I shot Ben one last loving smile and walked away.

 

Theirs was a world that I was not welcomed in, to say the least. So, what was it that I did best? I ran away and did my job in the land of the poor and boring. Away from curious eyes and gossiping lips.

 

We were worlds apart and that's how it would stay.


	2. Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a quick disclaimer that I realize there are tons of sub-communities in the BDSM world. That there's no one way to express a personal form of submission. As long as the scene or act is safe, sane and consensual then do as you do.

His name was Armitage Hux.

 

At least, that's what I had overheard a few times when I had walked close to their table to tend to my other customers. A few women had come in and sat near the electric duo. I'm sure they felt the same sex appeal and exhilarating power they emitted effortlessly. A part of me was jealous of how the men would give the women a few flirting glances. Something I'd never experienced in my own life.

 

What must it feel like for someone to give you a small snippet of their attention and adoration?

 

And all too soon the men stood up from their table and I was even more so grateful to stand next to Rita. Who I hoped would catch me if I were to faint because I became quite light headed.

 

“Well, would you look at that. Like walking sex with legs dressed in a dark chocolate coating.” Rita's observations and descriptors she used for attractive people made me laugh a little. She had no filter and I quite liked it. Whereas I kept my filter on at all times, unfortunately.

 

I never knew that Ben's tall 6 foot and something frame filled out a black suit so well that it was almost sinful. Taking in his entire appearance and frame made my heart palpitate a bit. He had gained muscle obviously since the last time I saw him. Thicker and more masculine like a well-built draft horse. Oh, I'd definitely give my left arm to ride that.

 

“Oh, wow.” Rita gasped and she looked away, I almost had to catch her from fainting.

 

When I looked back up towards the duo I could almost feel a nosebleed coming on. Mr. Hux was no exception to the **sex with legs dressed in a chocolate coating** metaphor my friend had used. Though he was only slightly shorter than Ben and much leaner (from what I could see); he wore the same suit in such an irresistible way. Like two black horsemen from the Apocalypse. It wasn't a lie when they said a suit was a man's version of lingerie for women.

 

Something about their brooding looks and damn-it-all aura finished off their ensembles perfectly.

 

My soul left my body when I noticed that Ben's eyes caught a hold of mine, and he curved his finger at me to come hither. Rita sprung to life when I tossed her to the side and gracefully made my way towards the two men. My hands folded over each other and my eyes were downcast as I addressed Ben.

 

“It's been a pleasure serving you both. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

 

I heard a hitched inhale and I looked up to see Mr. Hux giving me a very pointed and intense look. I couldn't read it before Ben took my chin in between his fingers and forced me to look up at him.

 

“You're always a pleasure, Piglette. I'll be seeing you.” Ben's eyes softened when my own eyes enlarged and I gave him another toothy grin. I'd like to believe that when I smiled at him like this he saw flashbacks of our crazy childhood together. When he still would only speak a few words to me but he had shown me how to air up his dad's tires, how to properly wrestle him, and hunt for toads in the creek behind his house.

 

The only difference about me was that I was just a slightly taller and fuller version of my childhood self. Though I still had the baby face and chubby cheeks that didn't seem to bother anyone else except for me. I really hadn't changed that much. My only drive was to leave this place for maybe a simple life somewhere out in a wooded State. A place that accepted the slower pace of life. Where stress and expectations weren't such a demanded commodity.

 

Just like that the men both walked away and I stood there sheepishly. My ears catching the end tail of something Mr. Hux had said to Ben.

 

“...you're right. She'd fit the job well.”

 

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

 

I tossed and turned in my bed that evening. A hot fever of lust consuming me as I thought about Ben and Mr. Hux. Imagining their large hands over me, caressing and teasing my skin like play dough. My thoughts centered more around the redheaded male. How he didn't have to speak to me to command my body to bend at his will.

 

All he had to do was give me a look and point at what he wanted for me to succumb to him. I wondered what it would be like for those masculine, and perfectly manicured hands, to wrap around my throat as he slowly played with my breathing. The environment around me would become fuzzy from the euphoric subspace I'd be placed in by him.

 

I could just see him petting my face and then tapping my lips to open for a ball gag. Pushing me down and starting to slap at my thighs. Making me jump and tingle all over; until his fingers found my wet center, and he'd tease me even there. Tapping at my clit before he'd slowly enter me with one and then two fingers—touching that spot inside me that made my eyes roll into the back of my head.

 

I wonder what it would be like to truly be dominated by him. I'd never admit this openly but I relished at the thought of being humiliated a little bit. Maybe it was a direct reflection of my own reality. Where no one would tell me openly how I had disappointment them. That I probably was going to amount to nothing one day. That my parents had wasted all those years of piano lessons and language courses on a daydreamer like me. That now my younger sister was their star child and prodigy. Someone worth spending the time, money and effort on. They'd let me loose because I was easily replaceable.

 

Perhaps, Mr. Hux would bring me down into a rut where I could safely express my tears and negative emotions. Where he'd let me feel all this pent-up pain only to bring me back up and hold me. Tell me gently, with that voice of his how I was my own ray of sunshine, and that I was meant to do what no one else would or wanted to.

 

Maybe that was the wrong type of submission I yearned for, and in reality, I should just see a therapist, I concluded.

 

Just recently, I came upon this smaller community of the BDSM world. A place that explored gentler Doms, and things such as age play, and something about daddy Doms, caregivers, and littles. I wasn't really into regressing into a sputtering baby or child. If anything, I found myself looking back fondly at the age of 18 when I truly felt accepted and appreciated by my parents. I couldn't say that I had daddy issues but I had a small inkling for someone to take care of me and make sure I was behaving.

 

Could Mr. Hux do something like that? Tell me in a strict voice, steady me with his hand and teach me how to overcome my internalized inferiority complex? Maybe not. He seemed like if he were a Dom he'd expect to tie one up and leave red welts and bruises on their body. He seemed like a Dom who played on the rougher side of the spectrum. Honestly, that world of the community scared me. I wasn't someone who could be rough and tumbled with and be brought back. I wanted to be gently rough handled on occasion but have a more mental and emotional connection with my Dom.

 

Mr. Hux more than likely had plenty of women for that sort of thing. Where he could tie them up, degrade them, and leave them wanting more. In my own right, the BDSM world was probably something I really wasn't cut out for. And any pipe dream I had of a Dom being gentle with me and bringing me back with aftercare was a slim chance.

 

But like I said—I was a daydreamer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to properly write a fanfic where I don't have to constantly put (Y/N) in every sentence or chapter. Figuring that a nickname given to you by Ben would be more realistic and even more intimate. Though it will happen eventually, I really want to establish a connection with you dear reader and the gruesome twosome :)
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. Leather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of collars and daddy kinks.

I must have lost my mind.

 

Surely, months before I wasn’t the type of person to indulge in extra circular activities such as buying a bondage collar from a sex site. Let alone something as bright and attention-grabbing as a crimson patent leather collar. I swallowed the lump in my throat and willed myself to put the object on. It fit so perfectly. Medium sized in width to fit my neck snugly but still quite feminine.

 

My pulse began to quicken and I became giddy with the weight of the leather against my skin. I’d never felt something so exhilarating and yet wholesome. The blog I secretly ran, and would occasionally make posts to, was one of the kinky indulgences I let myself have. Nothing overtly crass but definitely erotic.

 

One of my few followers, that I had a good online relationship with, had told me about the site. Stating that it was what he used for his submissives, and that all the leather gear he obtained was something the site could easily custom make for me if I chose to go down that path.

 

 **Pumpkin** : Hey, good afternoon, Radar! I finally got it! Ommmyyygossshh! I’m so excited! It’s perfect! Thank you for telling me about the site. I think I have a new addiction, lol!

 

_< Picture Sent>_

 

Radar was one of my blog followers who would occasionally comment on my posts. Normally, on my lingerie sets I’d buy for myself whenever I felt not grown up enough. Of course, my face was always obscured and I tried to make sure that I didn’t have anything incriminating in my photos. Other than a scantily clad body; I tried to make my erotic posts decently classy. Though, a quick look through the posts that held my kinky thoughts and overall woe in being an un-collared sub wasn’t so PG.

 

In the beginning I was a little put off by Radar’s comments and his blog entirely. He grew on me as the months progressed and our odd little friendship blossomed. I tagged him as the type of guy who liked females who were deeply into age regression and into the daddy kink community. Though he never posted anything about his own personal life. I could gather with how we spoke, and what his blog entailed, that he was a very established man.

 

 **Radar:** It compliments your skin tone perfectly. Glad to have helped.

 

I must have some sort of kink for guys who like to only respond with one-liners or the occasional word. Radar never really replied back as much as I did. A part of me wondered if he thought I was flirting with him. There were multiple times I had to apologize to the man for constantly messaging him and ranting. I truly felt that he was a friend I could be honest with. Maybe sometimes a little too honest.

 

 **Radar:** Still haven’t found a Dom. Have you?

 

A part of me felt a little sad when I read that. My reality of only being able to fantasize and fulfill my own dirty thoughts from the comfort of my own room. With no one to share the experience with. I felt depressed suddenly.

 **Pumpkin:** No such luck, Sir. I haven’t seen Mr. RedHead since two weeks ago. A part of me really wishes that he could be my Dom. But I know that’s just not how things work. Also, how he acted towards me the last time I saw him. I doubt I’m his type or even fit the bill as a sub for him.

 

I felt happy and giddy being able to call someone Sir. Regardless, if they weren’t a Dom over me. It felt nice to be able to show my respect and submission to someone. Even if they were just a faceless person behind a computer or phone screen. Radar was respectful with his exchanges towards me and I never felt uneasy with him. I assumed with how well he handled me and my insecurities that he had his own sub. Truthfully, I felt a bit jealous thinking that.

 

 **Radar:** Chin up, Pumpkin. I’m sure you’ll find one eventually. It takes time and patience. Which I know you have. :)

 

A giggle left me and I quickly typed a reply back.

 

 **Pumpkin:** Wow. That’s the most you’ve ever typed in a reply. But hey, thanks for believing in me. I’m just starting to lose hope. I know I can find my own sub-space but I just really would like someone to take control of me. I guess I’m lonely or crazy.

 

I bit my lip as I clicked send and watched as the text highlighted with the words ‘read’ underneath it. I waited a good fifteen minutes before realizing that Radar had probably gone off to work and would get back to me later in the day. I always forget that being an adult and having to work was a thing whenever we would talk.

 

Speaking of which. I needed to head out here soon for my first shift at the beauty store.

 

**.**

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**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

“What do you mean you got let go?” Rita held my trembling shoulders as she looked down at me. It was painfully hard to not lose my grip and cry in front of her and the whole cafe. Not to mention, I hadn’t brought my makeup bag in so if I ruined my makeup—that was it for my flawless mascara and eyeliner.

 

I inhaled with a shaky breath, “My manager said that they were closing down and moving everything to their main store downtown. Well, I could have moved over to that one. But that’s like an extra 10 minutes from here and I doubt I’d be able to make it if I pulled doubles.”

 

Rita held me close and made sure we were shielded by the divider in front of the barista counter. She knew how important it was for me to have two jobs and knew about my plan to leave within a year or two. I’d been trying to get a third job on the weekends but kept coming up empty-handed.

 

“Dude,” Rita placed her hands on my face and kissed my forehead. “You’re fine. It’s going to be fine. Just breathe and later this weekend go job hunting, ok? Don’t cry about it. Horrible things happen but that makes us stronger. You’re a smart and patient girl. If I have to sacrifice some ladybugs and burn some coins on a gold candle for your sake. I will.”

 

I forced myself to breathe in deeply and gave my coworker a smile and giggled a bit at her last statement. Though she openly told me of her witchy practices I wondered how good her spells really were. So far they seemed to do diddly poop for me.

 

“Hello?” I gasped when I turned and saw Ben standing at the register looking around for an employee.

 

Rita gave me a once over and winked at me before taking off with a tray that had some espressos and cinnamon muffins. My hands smoothed down my apron and I briskly walked over to the counter and apologized to Ben.

 

“So, you got fired?” Ben asked and my face quickly turned red, eyes downcast, and I started to panic again.

 

“N-no, not fired. I just couldn’t take the job. It’s too far from here and home. It’s not worth spending the gas or money for a 4 hour shift.” My explanation came out in a quick jumble of words and I tried to distract myself with the register buttons.

 

“Listen,” Ben leaned over the counter and closer to me. It really didn’t take that much effort for him to tower over me. “A friend needs a pet sitter and someone to clean the apartment every now and then. It’s $200 for sitting but if you’re willing to become a part-time house cleaner the price goes up. Lives in the area and doesn’t ask for mu—“

 

“I’ll do it. Here’s my number.” I gulped and slid one of the cafe business cards into Ben’s hand. My name and phone number quickly etched on the back of the card. Deep down I was utterly desperate to secure a job. My parents had told me that as long as I was working full-time hours, regardless of how many jobs, they’d let me live at home rent-free until I was out. Still, though, I paid for all the things I needed for work, and even my own food. If my parents threw me out I didn’t know where I would go and with what small amount of money I had saved up.

 

“Perfect. Now give me an Americano.” Ben blatantly stated.

 

“Whatever you want, Sir.” I looked up at Ben and winked at him. Noticing the way his eyes narrowed at me and he shot me a knowing look. A lump in my throat formed and I suddenly felt goosebumps all over my body.

 

“Smart, girl.” 


	4. Fur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. Slightly.
> 
> I appreciate the feedback and I appreciate my lurkers :) Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

When I had walked up to the lavish apartment complex I felt the world blur around me. Very modern, very European, and very expensive. I wasn’t quite sure how to handle myself as I walked through large glass panel doors. Every hair on my body began to rise as goosebumps peppered my skin. This was all too surreal.

 

Ms. Phasma, my future employer’s secretary, had made the phone call to me only a few days before. At first, I had assumed it was her that I would be working for. So curt, straight to the point, and business-like. A fear grew inside me that my future employer would be the same if not worse.

 

I settled in front of the statuesque female and took her in fully. If amazons still roamed the earth I’m sure she would be their leader if not their queen.

 

“Ms. L/N, I hope you didn’t have any issues finding your way here?” Her voice was like a very well tuned cello. Not too deep or masculine; however, very attention-grabbing, and pleasant to the ears.

 

I could only smile at her, my hands subconsciously running over my pencil skirt to ease out any creases. Being glad that I overdressed for this interview. My satin blouse was feminine yet professional, not too much cleavage, with just the right amount of fitted and sheer. A young, smart professional.

 

“No, Ma’am. It wasn’t any trouble.” I replied just as curtly but respectfully.

 

“Perfect. Follow me.” Ms. Phasma’s pace, as she strode across the lobby of the complex, was the equivalent to my jogging—in high heels. “My employer would appreciate it if we conducted this meeting in his apartment. I can asses you if you’re hands-on with the material.”

 

All I could do was nod my head and say ‘Yes, Ma’am.’ on a constant as I tried to keep my stiletto heels from falling through the gap in the elevator. Standing next to the blond haired woman made me feel like a small little daisy in a field of sunflowers. Regardless, of Ms. Phasma’s larger, and much more built frame, I found myself admiring her inside my head.

 

She was the near copy of my father. Her attitude towards me wasn’t intimidating but comforting. My father had the same attitude towards his work and family. Logical, business oriented, and very blunt.

 

Perhaps, if I had applied myself as my parents’ had wished, I could be just like this woman. Demanding respect as she entered the room, and being able to hold her own against the tyranny of men. Definitely a trait I did not have—nor would probably ever obtain.

 

I’ve always been told I was too soft—both in body and mind. Not having the etched in stone discipline to follow or stick to a diet. Going to the gym with what time I did have left in the day (which wasn’t a lot), and being the highly noticeable black sheep of my family. It wasn’t as if I had told my parents that I wanted to run off with the circus to smoke weed all day—no matter how interesting of a life that was. No, I just didn’t want to go into a college right after I had graduated high school.

 

I wasn’t allowed to take a break from academics, not put myself into crippling debt, or see what else life had to offer. No, I was expected to be reasonable and to work just like my parents, who were well off to live as they did.

 

I wasn’t oblivious to what money held or the corruption it spread in its wake.

 

I wanted nothing to do with that. I would rather live simply, poorly—doing something that I could call my own from scratch. As I had assumed, my parents refused to pay for my crazy endeavors, which was fine. I needed to work hard for what I wanted—but it was really hard.

 

“My employer is a man of concentration, Ms. L/N. You’d do well not to lose your head.”

 

My cheeks tinged pink, raising my eyes shyly to look at Ms. Phasma’s, much more icy stare, “My apologies, Ma’am. I meant no disrespect. I’m just nervous and I was trying to calm myself.”

 

For a brief second I could see her eyes soften at me, but just like that—the ding of the elevator brought back the curtain of cold reality.

 

I followed her down a corridor that only had two doors facing each other on opposite sides. My mouth got dry suddenly when I realized that this apartment was going to be huge if it took half of one side of the building. Maybe they were all like this? Rich, high society folks who had nothing better to do but spend their money on outlandish homes?

 

“Are you allergic to cats?” The question caught me off guard.

 

“Yes, I take allergy medicine for it but I’m fine afterward.” My response, of course, was rushed, and I tried not to stay too long in the corridor, with my mouth gaping.

 

“A minor setback,” She seemed irritated by my confession and began walking towards the dining table, where an array of paperwork was laid out. In that very moment, I was able to really take in the grandeur of this place.

 

Six words: I. Am. Unqualified. To. Be. Here

 

The intimidation set in as I noticed the marble floors, dark furniture, and overall modern setting. I felt extremely poor then—even with what money my parents had—their home paled in comparison. Was this where they shot professional GQ photo-shoots or dark minimalistic home improvement shows? Maybe I could just fail this interview and never have to come back. This was definitely a world unfamiliar to me.

 

Gold awards and medals hung framed on the dark wood panel walls. My mouth went dry again as I noticed the very masculine and distinct shaped décor strategically placed in areas.

 

I couldn’t imagine the trouble I’d get into if I were to break anything by accident.

 

Suddenly, a deep meow resonated in front of me, and I quickly stopped ogling to find a very orange Himalayan cat throwing daggers in my general direction. A shiver ran down my spine, and I cracked the cat a small smile, whilst lowering my head in acknowledgment at it.

 

Ms. Phasma had a loving smile on her face as she gently cooed to the cat, “Millicent, say hello. This is L/N. Do take care as to not scare her off like the others.”

 

I’m sure my complexion paled as I took in the woman’s words and gave the cat a confused look. I loved all animals—that was for certain—however, if this cat didn’t want me in the house I wouldn’t be much of a fight against it. Kitty had a look of death in its eyes and if there was anything I knew about cats—it was that they were very dedicated to letting you know how much they hated you.

 

My legs finally moved and I took careful steps to the orange feline.

 

I outstretched my hand to Millicent and lowered my eyes, “Hello there, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Small whiskers tickled my fingertips before Millicent sneezed, and threw me a harsh meow, jumped from the table and ran off further into the apartment.

 

“Ah, seems she’s accepted you, so far.”

 

I gave Ms. Phasma a perplexed look with my mouth slightly opened.

 

The next hour seemed to have passed all too quickly. Being grateful to have written down the key points that the secretary had stated into a notepad.

 

Ms. Phasma had walked me through the main parts of the apartment, pointing out where things were, what Millicent deemed worthy has food, and how I was meant to be with her for an hour every time I came over. Regardless if she wanted to be next to me; I had to keep the lonely feline somewhat socialized even if I just sat on the couch reading. Her owner worked well into the evening, I was informed, and Millicent wasn’t getting any younger. In a sense, I was there to keep her from going mad and destroying her owner’s home. A smart choice, indeed.

 

I was to work as a pet sitter from Monday to Friday in the mornings. The contract I had signed stated that if I did my due diligence to clean up after the feline and kept her sane enough—I could have a ‘raise’ and be at the place more often. Which meant a pay raise and more money. Along with a non-disclosure I signed on, Ms. Phasma gave me a set of rules I was to abide with.

 

  * Always come professionally dressed.

  * Always spend exactly 1 hour with Millicent; no less.

  * Never leave the home worse off than when you arrived.

  * Never arrive late.

  * Feed Millicent at exactly 0830 along with her medicine each day.

  * Never go past the bathroom unless permitted.  
  





“The rules are set to change by my employer. Please do your best to be flexible if you are ever given a new rule.” Those were the last words Ms. Phasma had said to me as I briefly looked over the paperwork one last time.

 

My breath caught in my throat and I had to hold in a scream.

 

I hadn’t noticed the signatures next to mine, assuming that the taller woman had previously signed, but on the last page, I noticed in print—below the last signature.

 

‘Mr. Armitage Hux’

 

_Fuck._


	5. Meow, bitch

Every time I walked through the doors of this lavish apartment a small part of me couldn’t help but fantasize about my employer. What did his daily rituals consist of, I wondered sheepishly. Never a speck of dust grazed his furnishings, never cat hair collecting in the corners, never really anything out of place. Every day it felt as if I was constantly walking into a showroom for eligible bachelors of only the highest quality.

Every day I would make up curious assumptions of the mysterious Mr. Armitage Hux.

However, there was something comforting about the constant rules and standards. Coming here almost every single day except weekends. On those particular days, I would miss the dominating energy of this home. In some twisted part of me, I was just feeding into my fetishes.

A part of me would start to wonder what type of monstrosities the handsome redhead would get into on the weekends. Perhaps he was an intense version of Mr. Grey? I laughed to myself at the thought. My mind was a dangerous playground when I fantasized about him. Curious as to what being touched and caressed by the handsome man would feel like.

The few times I had encountered Mr. Hux I scarcely felt an ounce of kindness radiate off of him. If there was any chance at all that he dappled in darker and kinkier things. I doubt he would be kind let alone be into some Japanese Shibari and something as innocent as an orgasm denial.

No, the first impression of him was dark and dangerous seduction. He probably would dominate you in a suit while you were bare and naked, with a dildo up the butt, and a spider gag in your mouth. He probably got high off of knife play, and extreme humiliation, and degradation. A few things I wasn’t so personally keen on with ‘extreme’ attached to it.

In the few months, I had researched the more intense side of BDSM I came upon plenty of sites and sources that made my skin crawl. I imagined letting myself be put in a situation where I was helplessly tied up; hot wax being poured over me as my many orifices were either plugged or teased with. There was no calling or slight light-headed buzz that I felt resonate inside of me when I thought of such things.

Some of my kinks perhaps may have come off as soft, but what I saw just made the submissive inside wretch with fear. I was already used in excess on the daily with my normal life. I refused to be used any more than needed in or outside of the bedroom.

An emotion was starting to overwhelm me as in started to bloom in the pit of my stomach. Self-doubt and inferiority nipped at the edges of my heart. I felt out of place both here and in the kink world. My mind reeling back to anonymous messages I had received on my kink blog.

Plenty of people berating me for seeming unsure or too soft in my limits. That I had nowhere to talk or voice an opinion if I had never been ultimately used in a scene. That BDSM wasn’t for weak minded or emotionally unstable people of my caliber. I felt the latter comment on a personal level.

Another comment had said that I was only kidding myself. That the true kinksters were these ‘pain sluts’ and ‘exhibition whores’ that purposely sought out a new form of degradation and humiliation each day. My stomach churned and since then I haven’t posted to my blog in a couple weeks. My online friend ‘Radar’ sent small messages of concern since then about my whereabouts.

For these reasons alone, I stuck to my fantasies, and late night perusing for softer kink tags, and girly aesthetically pleasing mood boards. But how wonderful would it be if there was someone who looked like my employer but would take me under a softer side of domination.

I suppose... that’s what dreams consisted of. Better to be safe in my head than to get involved with someone who would only see me as a sub-par submissive. I don’t think I could handle that type of rejection. Especially when my earlier kink related fantasies focused on Ben Solo being my dominant. We both saw where that went—nowhere.

The times Ben would treat me like a younger, annoying sibling he would hold my hand, and look at me with those big eyes of his. He’d say, “You’re too kind, Piglette. Careful, ok? You could get your heart and soul broken.”

There was that familiar pang in my chest again. I really adored that man to pieces, and still, I find myself feeling bittersweet about what had happened in the past.

“Meeeow.” There’s a familiar drawl coming from the floor and the haze over my mind and eyes dissipate.

I let a heavy sigh escape from me, the more I come here, and the more the weeks keep going on. Millicent has started to show her true colors—and feelings—about how unhappy she is with our arrangement. Her claws coming out ever so often to swipe at my leg and run another hole through my hose.

Constantly, this fiery kitty is ruining the standards of which I’m to uphold in this place. Either she swipes at my leg or latches onto my delicate blouses with her sharp, tiny teeth. She was definitely making me work for this “easy” money, I’d joked about in my head.

“I’ve already fed you.” I looked over at the upturned food bowl. Her sign that the half a cup wasn’t sufficient for her needs. Mr. Hux had left a note saying she was getting too plump and that I had to properly watch her. I suppose the angry kitty was taking me for a fool for the last week or two because I probably overfed her at times. My dumb fault.

Another howl elicited from the floor and I peered over my book again to look at her. This time, Millicent gave me a pinched look and her tail swatted behind her angrily.

Well, two can play at this game. I hope...

“Listen, I know you’ve been using me for extra food. You can’t eat your feelings away, Missus.” I must have a few marbles loose because talking to a cat wasn’t making me question my sanity as I thought it would. My heart did go out to the testy kitty. I’m sure she wasn’t too keen on the fact her owner was gone a lot more now.

A weird idea struck me as Millicent started to stretch and paw at my leg again. I leaned down close to her and meowed quite loudly and laughed as she hissed at me. “Oh, you don’t like that, do you?”

I lowered myself onto the ground on all fours and meowed once again. Only this time it came out as close to a drawl as I could muster in my chest. The cat’s fur stood up and she skirted away into the other room. I laughed again, sitting back on my legs, as she gave me one last glare before rounding the corner.

It was really comical... hearing someone clearing their throat from behind me and my own hair standing on end. I begged the high heavens for it to be Ms. Phasma and not him.

“Do you take to harassing animals normally? Or is it just mine?” Armitage’s thick accented voice boomed from behind me. I jumped to my feet and lowered my eyes while my head shook on its own.

“No, sir. I was just teasing her. I don’t do that to her normally... it was only today.” I tried to brave the waters and look up at my employer’s face. My heart wilted and sunk further into my body with the deadly look he gave me. If there was ever a time to feel inferior it was right now.

“It won’t happen again. I promise.” I hated that my voice cracked at the end of my statement. This would probably get me fired and he’d more than likely tell Ben about how horrible I was to his feline friend.

I lifted my eyes again to watch him throw the blazer over the armrest of the leather couch. He straightened his tie before stepping up a little closer to me—maybe half a meter if not less. I recognized the perfume he used, my mouth wetting just a little at the kick of spice on the fading after notes. I had a secret hobby of buying men’s sweaters and dousing them in delicious masculine scents. In my pathetic world, I would fantasize about the sweater and scent belonging to some mystery boyfriend. Though, it always felt like a constant hug being in soft cashmere knits.

“Do it again,” Armitage commanded.

His eyebrows knitted together at the blatant hesitation and he pointed down to the ground.

“Get on your hands and knees and do it again.” There was a bite to this command and I feared he’d reach over and push me down if I prolonged this anymore.

My body trembled as if it were cold all of the sudden. I felt an ache in my knees as I lowered myself and faced his leather shoes head on. It dawned on me then that I was right from the start. Mr. Armitage Hux was not a man of kindness or gentle domination. He relished in my humiliation at this moment because he got closer by kneeling in front of me.

“What do kitties do, Ms. L/N?” Armitage lowered his voice in a soft whisper.

“Meow.” The sound was forced from behind my lips the same time as I was forced to look Mr. Hux in the eyes. “Meeow.”

The corner of his lip twitched and he bore his gaze more intensely at me.

I let out a shaky breath I was holding in when I felt a warm hand on my cheek. I hadn’t realized that I was crying but when I did I reared back and dabbed at my face profusely. Embarrassment was an understatement. If I could just die and vanish at this moment that would be great.

“You did very well.” The affirmation made me even more emotional and I started to sob a little.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry.” I needed to get out of here. Everything was a blur as I stood and quickly trotted over to my things. My coat was barely over my shoulders as my hand connected with the door and I was quickly walking down and out the corridor.

This was nothing like the romance novels boasted about. Where was the ‘magical moment’ that would make me want to stay and entertain the thought of having a romp in the sheets with him? Where was the ever so dreamy thought of getting turned on and wanting more? I was humiliated and he just stared at me like he was watching the most entertaining sport ever created. He merely affirmed that I did well and did nothing else to calm me down.

He just enjoyed himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took longer than expected. A lot of bad things have happened in my life and I'm currently trying to figure things out. Writing seems to be my only form of joy right now. Thank you for being so patient. Please, let me know how you liked this chapter.


	6. Irony

 

> " **It was a question I had worn on my lips for days**
> 
> **\- like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn't resist pulling**
> 
> **\- despite knowing it could all unravel around me.**
> 
>  
> 
> **"Do you love me?" I ask.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **In your hesitation I found my answer.** "  
>   
> 
> 
> Lang Leav, Love & Misadventure

 

* * *

 

 

Escape could not come sooner.

There was an attack on my heart and mind all of the remaining evening when I had returned home. Even the drive back to my secluded sanctuary didn’t feel like it was my own. There, on the parts where he had touched me, gotten close and stayed too long—I could still smell his cologne.

A succulent miasma of masculinity lined by sweet notes of dangerous fun and eventual regrets. A scent that made my body tingle at the prospect of being touched and introduced into something darker. But unfortunately, I wasn’t like that. I was simple, never pressed the darker boundaries of my desires, and kept myself safe and unharmed. Though I could see the allure in handing over every part of myself to him—I just couldn’t. In my simplicity, I found a comfort that conformed to my boundaries of kink and excitement. However boring that was for someone—It was heaven for me.

After I was accepted for the pet sitting job, I had done my own research every evening when I returned home. My web history lined with pages of Mr. Armitage Hux. I practically stalked his life, work, and the events he had participated in. Obviously, he wasn’t a man of using social media, so what articles I did find were based around his succession to his father’s empire. He was constantly surrounded by intellects and possibly the entire team to make up NASA. He was incredibly smart, an entrepreneur and businessman through and through. I went even so far to see who he was romantically linked with or which woman hung around his arm like a brand new Rolex watch. Constantly changing, varied and always beautiful.

A woman can’t help but compare herself to another woman. An ugly curse we bear into our existence. A foul voice that can be stifled with utmost control and care. But I had no control and very little care. Especially when she dripped in Hermes and Burberry like they were casual active wear bought from Old Navy. I believed solely in individuality but I couldn’t stop the thoughts that ravaged me. I fell further down my own rabbit hole...

I was just a fun new toy to play with on the side. The bargain bin toy with a chip or part missing. Perhaps, if I was lucky enough, I kept all my parts but was the toy no child wanted or bought in the many years I lined the shelves.

My laptop was shut and pushed back into my desk drawer. Rubbing my eyes I took a sip at the tea my mother had made for me. She could tell my allergies were at their highest when she saw my swollen face and puffy eyes. Honestly, I didn't have the heart to tell her it was part allergies, and part of me pulling off into a parking lot to cry before I drove the remaining mile home.

Yet here I was, the next day, facing the door to the handsome monster’s home. The key stalling at the entryway as I tried to grab a sense of rationality and control of myself. I’d barely gotten any sleep last night, there was a sense of dread and fear with knowing that today was my last pet sitting day for the week. All of this nightmare would continue on Monday and I would have to pray for strength once again.

I took a deep breath in, finally pushed the key forward, and opened the door. It was only a subtle creak that emitted from the home. My body slinked through the small opening I had made for myself and closed the door quietly.

There was the faint tinkle of Millicent’s bell on her collar as she came from the kitchen mewing at me. A relieved sigh escaped from me and I walked over to pet the cat.

“Good morning, lovely girl.” I cooed at her before she jumped into my arms mewing louder. I stood up carefully and proceeded to continue on our familiar ritual. She’d make her way to the counter as I gave her fresh water and food. Occasionally, I would ask her how her day was, and if she enjoyed herself last night. My mind fantasizing that the cat had more of a social life than me,

“Say, M. Your owner didn’t say anything about me to you... Did he?” I asked softly as the orange cat ate her food in silence, raising her head to look at me after swallowing, her eyes squinted at me in acknowledgment and back she went to eating.

I wasn’t too sure on how to read the body language of a cat but I found reassurance that she didn’t make noise at me. Perhaps, Mr. Hux didn’t say anything and just laughed off the entire thing. I couldn’t figure out what was worse. Him gossiping about me to his feline companion or maybe him thinking how entertaining I was for the brief second I stuck around.

I couldn’t help but sigh again for the second time today. I opened the matte black fridge and took a bottle of water out to sip on. There was always an assortment of drinks, alcohol, and food in the oversized icebox. But I never felt worthy enough to sneak anything for myself other than plain water. I would only take one bottle of water whenever I forgot my own which was rare. Today though, I was in a flustered rush to get here on time.

Even my outfit today barely had any thought put into it. I found some clean slacks and a button up shirt my mother had pressed in our laundry room. I had grabbed them as I rushed to do my morning routine. My makeup, even though simple as it was, wasn’t even fully done as I still looked incredibly younger than I truly was. I hoped that Mr. Hux wouldn’t have the misfortune in seeing me today. Doubt I could take another one of those close encounters.

The hours slowly passed as I kept to myself on the couch. I had ransacked my library clean of self-motivation books and ‘ _finding confidence as a blossoming woman_ ' magazines. Anything to give me a boost and help my faltering self-esteem. It seems to be the only thing going for me in this current time of my life.

I hadn’t realized that in a couple of hours Mr. Hux would be home. I would make sure to swiftly kick myself out of the abode before he did. Anything to keep our meetings rare and nonexistent.

My phone pinged and the screen lit up, my eyes briefly seeing that a message had come through, it was my mother. She had shared a short link to something, her only words for it was: “I can’t believe this! I’m beyond excited for them!”

At first, I thought she was sending me either a link about a celebrity crush of hers (which she often did) or to a friend’s FB post. Seems everyone was getting married or having kids left and right now.

When I clicked on the link I didn’t wait for the article header to load and quickly scrolled down to the pictures. If this was a celebrity I wanted to see who it was and gawk at the ridiculous amount of luck and money these people had.

My heart stopped... Yet, I could feel a pulsating ring in my ears as the world slowly went silent around me.

There, happily holding and kissing on a young woman’s cheek was— _my_ —Ben.  
  
The page reloaded and threw me back up to the top where the header finally loaded for me. I felt the air escape my lungs.

 

**“Newly Engaged: How the Infamous Heiress Found Her New Hope in Businessman Ben Solo!”**   

 

The next picture showed the couple, and a handful of their close friends, at a posh restaurant surrounding a large table. The following pictures had Mr. Hux in them as he congratulated them with a toast and a few others followed in suit.

Everyone looked as if they all melted together nicely in their world of luxury and politics. My eyes could barely stand to look at the few pictures of Ben and his fiance locking in a kiss or staring into each other’s eyes. There was a numbing effect on my heart when I stared too long.

I shouldn’t have been surprised.

After all, it was the same woman I had caught Ben with all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking forever to come. 
> 
> I wrote 3 different variants of this chapter and still wasn't incredibly happy with them. Finally, I threw everything in a bowl and this was the result. I hope it hits all the right places for you; for as short as it is.
> 
> Thank you for the CC's and keep them coming! Let me know what you think about everything and what you'd like to see in the future. All KINK and VANILLA questions are WELCOMED!


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